


What Makes Life Worth Living

by gigiree



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 04:11:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7920022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigiree/pseuds/gigiree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Too weak to be heiress to the Hyuuga clan, Hinata finds purpose in becoming her sister's protector and guide. It's easier this way because when you live for someone, you're prepared to die.</p><p>But her confidence is shattered when Hanabi is kidnapped right from under her careful watch. Hinata embarks on a journey to save her sister.</p><p>Along the way, she makes friends with a wandering samurai on his own mission, a tracker with a painful past, and a taciturn entemologist.</p><p>Together they venture beyond their tiny provinces and find what makes life worth living.</p><p>Samurai Au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paths Cross As Do Swords

 

The clang of metal and against metal rings true on the heels of the rising sun. It's quick and piercing, the steely screeching of swords sliding past each other, and attacks parried in succession is deafening, and yet she manages to raise her quiet voice loud enough for him to hear past it.

 

"Where is Hanabi?!"

 

She shouts it to the heavens, her previously ghostly eyes shine with something akin to starlight and he finds that he enjoys the color more now. They're the same gray as the sky before sunrise...a silver on the precipice of brightness.

 

But for the life of him, he cannot imagine what sort of anger has given this tiny girl the strength to keep up with her assault.

 

Her question confuses him to no end, because he is simply a wandering samurai. Simply a traveling, masterless ronin who had stumbled into these lands at the absolute wrong time.

 

He had expected an ordinary welcome. Perhaps the call of a few merchants to check out their wares, a nearby teahouse advertising that it had the best tea in all the Western front, a few cute village girls to fawn over his tales, and maybe a night spent in an old rickety inn.

 

Instead he had arrived the evening before, only to find the locals in an uproar. Troops of samurai with a red flame emblazoned onto the overlapping plates of their laquered armor marched in unison across town and about the surrounding areas.

 

He had decided that sleeping in the forest would be preferable to getting caught up in whatever mess was brewing. He didn't like the look of these foot soldiers, swords in hand, and grim faces with creepy white eyes.

 

Eyes exactly like the ones burning into him at this very moment, daring him to deny her accusations.

 

She is tiny. She is slim and pale and looks as if a good wind could blow her in one puff to the seas beyond.

 

But she snarls like a lioness, and the swish of her robes and the clinking of her armor lend themselves to her ferocity. She is quick where is he slow, and knows how to follow through with his blow well enough to turn the force back on him.

 

He does not answer her, partly in confusion, partly in awe of her skill, and mostly because it's the crack of dawn and he was woken up by a small little swordswoman with sunflowers on her sleeves.

 

Her wakizashi had been drawn, gleaming dimly in the waxing sunlight, sharp point positioned right below his chin.

 

She had asked the same question. And then without warning pounced on him when she noticed his hand straying towards his own blade.

 

They crossed paths...crossed swords before either could blink, and the fight had begun as the morning dew had evaporated.

 

"Where. Is. My. Sister?!"

 

Each word is punctuated by another thrust, another push, another clang.

 

His blue eyes widen in understanding, and there is pity in his gaze because he knows all too well what it's like to lose someone of kin. But he cannot let down his guard just yet...cannot charm his way out of this one because something tells him that she is too angry and too driven to do much but fight.

 

And he does not take her accusation lightly.

 

"I don't know anything about that!"

 

He weaves and dodges, because as skilled as she is, he knows her blows aren't meant to kill and her emotion will make her misjudge sometime soon. He simply has to find the right opening.

 

She grunts in dissatisfaction, not happy enough with the answer he has given her. And he can't blame her because her hurt seems fresh.

 

"WHERE. IS MY SISTER?!"

 

Her blows become crazed, a little disoriented, but to his ever increasing disappointment, she is much more talented than he had thought. She dances with passion and fury, her dark hair fans out behind her with each stroke given and each blow thrown.

 

He needs a distraction. He needs to throw her off balance.

 

So he smiles as he moves his sword in a wide arc, his katana's farther reach forcing her to take a few steps back.

 

He smiles a grin he knows is sunny and charming and shouts over the din of their weapons.

 

"HELLO! MY NAME IS UZUMAKI NARUTO!"

 

She falters, her mouth pops open in shock and it is enough for him to sneak past her outstretched arm, until he is close enough to see the tear tracks and the dirt that told of a long night spent in vain.

 

He is close enough to knock her blade from her hand, and close enough to hear the soft sigh of dismay from her pretty lips because she has lost more than this fight and she looks like she is drowning.

 

The beautifully crafted wakizashi falls to the earth with a sad, defeated clatter.

 

It looks pitifully dull now that it is no longer catching the light, and Naruto is a bit sad to see its song silenced, but it seems to echo the despair in her downward gaze.

 

With a grudging sigh, a borrowed 'troublesome' muttered under his breath, he sheathes his sword with a flourish and sweep of his orange sleeves.

 

The color is eye-catching with his movement and she blinks as if she has been staring at the sun for too long and because she was expecting a death blow, not this kind of mercy.

 

And ire wells up in her chest and claws at her insecurities because she refuses to be pitied for her loss, for her gender, and for her size. She is not one to be trifled with and not one who fears death, but there is also determination blazing in her heart.

 

A will to seek that which she deems most precious. Until then, she cannot die, and she silently thanks the heavens for this unwelcome blessing.

 

"You will not end me?"

 

The question is quiet and she chides herself for looking a gift horse so brazenly in the mouth, especially one that has just given her a reprieve on life, even if she was not aiming to end his.

 

He seems startled by the question and a little offended too.

 

She thinks confusion looks better on his face than that smile he had given her earlier.

 

It's more genuine.

 

"I-I wasn't trying to kill you...You..you started it."

 

And she resists the urge to roll her eyes because she hears his pout in the complaint and can see his lips pursed in malcontent, looking like a petulant child caught in the act.

 

She starts to laugh at that. She laughs and laughs until he wonders if she's just a little lost in her thoughts or if he's just met a crazed spirit at the crack of dawn.

 

The tears roll down her cheeks because ever since last night, she has been searching and feeling useless and a life that has been nothing but a greedy thief has once again stolen something from her.

 

She is a roiling, dancing, angry mess and her laughter devolves into sobs that she has never in her life allowed to break free.

 

It's only when, through her blurred sight, she sees his tanned fingers reaching for the hilt of her fallen sword, that she snaps out of it. She prepares herself.

 

Just in case…

 

Is something she has learned, and when she tenses and falls back a subtle distance, he glance up at her in grudging admiration.

 

Slowly and making sure to have his movement be non-threatening, he hands her the sword, hilt towards her, blade towards him so she understands.

 

It's a peace offering, and she wonders at his kindness when she accused him blindly and angrily.

 

With shaking hands and bruised fingers, she closes her grip around the top of the hilt, just above his own hand.

 

He lets it go, a little bit of a hesitancy and appeasement in his manner, because he's never been good with crying people.

 

She gives him a watery, grateful smile and quickly slides the blade with a melodic swish into its pretty scabbard, the white silk wrapped around the hilt perfectly matching the silver engravings on the wood.

 

'A noble?' He thinks to himself, and realizes with red embarrassment how rude he must have seemed to introduce himself earlier by shouting.

 

"I-I was so rude. I'm sorry."

 

And then she is bowing, lower than her fine robes, intricate armor, or pretty sword, would indicate she should.

 

Because he is simply a ronin and there isn't much more to his name than that.

 

He flushes at the protocol and babbles and waves away the politeness as best he can, because when she is not a roaring lioness, she is a princess with all the regal bearing expected in one such as her and she really looks cute when she's not shouting and oh dear lord…

 

He knows he's in deep trouble when she rises and smiles like sunbeams drifting through leaves, gentle and sad.

 

"H-hello. My name is Hyuuga Hinata...I'm sorry for trying to hurt you. Please let me make it up to you, somehow!"

 

* * *

 

It's in a small tea stop two miles down the road from the village, over tea and small, sweet cakes filled with red bean that he learns her story.

 

At least that which is relevant to her near crazy attack on him and anyone who had appeared suspicious around the village.

 

"I think the kidnapper is traveling north, and I don't have many leads, only that the kidnapper had three stripes on each cheek...like yours."

 

She stares down at the half-eaten pastry in her hand. She's barely touched it and he's nearly finished the whole plate, but she doesn't seem to notice.

 

"Wha-...I mean tha's prutty wurd…" He says around a mouthful, because he is hungry and he is tired and she is rich, so he will take eat what has been gifted to him and she owes him that much.

 

(And if he was a little more honest with himself, it's because he wanted to spend more time with the pretty girl who can wield a sword better than most men he has encountered.)

 

"E-excuse me?"

 

He swallows quickly, thumping his chest when the food gets stuck and he burn his throat trying to wash it down with burning hot tea.

 

"Oh dear! Are you okay?!" She asks in between gentle thumps to his broad back, and he is choking on crumbs and embarrassment.

 

"Arggh... ghhh...I-I'm o-kay…" He wheezes, and finally calms down enough to continue intelligible conversation.

 

"I meant to say...That's pretty weird. I don't know anyone else that has these."

 

He points with his thumb to his whiskers, a somewhat proud look crossing his face and making his blue eyes shine like sky.

 

She thinks it fits even better than confusion. But she is disheartened, because her lead has turned out to be a dead end...a handsome dead end who didn't kill her when he had the right to...but a dead end nonetheless.

 

"Oh.." Is her disappointed reply and a heart weary sigh escapes, traveling with the shudders that rack her body in the wake of her earlier sobs.

 

And again, he borrows a friend's habit and mutters 'troublesome' because he has own mission to accomplish and he can't get up in local squabbles, but his better nature is telling him to help.

 

"I can't help you find her...But…"

 

He pauses for dramatic effect, and finds it useless because her gaze sparks with hope and she is sitting straight on the edge of the bench outside the tea stop and the very flowers embroidered onto her robes seem to be blooming with her.

 

"Aaaah….I mean I know someone that can h-help."

 

And he gulps with trepidation and his heart is in his throat because she has clasped her hands around his and her expression is bright and her lips are mouthingthank you, thank you, thank you and he really needs to leave before he is even more trouble.

 

So he does. He hands her a small piece of parchment, crinkled and smudged with red bean, but it has a name and a hope and a chance to find her sister.

 

She watches his back grow smaller and smaller down the left fork of the road and her heavy heart is grateful because her dead end had ended being crossed path, and a new start to finding Hanabi.

 

When he's disappeared into the blazing sun and she's pushed aside any feelings of sadness for his departure, she glances once more at the name on the paper.

 

"Inuzuka Kiba"

 

She makes sure her scabbard is firmly adjusted once more, smooth down her sleeves and makes sure her armor is free of crumbs before leaving with a kindly farewell to the owner of the tea house.

 

And she heads down right fork of the road, gripping the sheet of paper in one hand and the silk red camellia she had given to Hanabi for a birthday many years ago.

 

They're all she has left.


	2. A Hound and His Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata misunderstands and makes a new friend.

In which Hinata finds her hope, Kiba has reservations about his abilities, and Akamaru is a case of mistaken identity.

 

Inuzuka Kiba

 

The name is vaguely familiar, it's on the tip of her tongue, something she had heard in passing when conversing with members of the branch family.

 

She sounds it out, having nothing else to entertain as she treads the winding roads that crisscross the Hyuuga province. And the tepid summer breeze carries away her murmurings, drifts through the long stalks of grass and ripples the water in the rice paddies she passes.

 

It's lonely, because as hard as life has been on her, she still misses the camaraderie of her fellow clan swordsmen, misses the chatter of the kindly servants who had taken her under their wing, and most of all she misses Hanabi.

 

She misses her in a way that hurts, a physical ache in her chest that pierces just under her ribs with every beat of a weary heart. Because she is both protector and mother to the Hyuuga heiress. Both sister and confidante, teacher and friend.

 

Hanabi had given her purpose, and even if they had fought on occasion, it was the normal quarrel of siblings.

 

And long ago, when her father had abandoned her to strange hands and colder eyes, and her mother had lain gasping her last breaths on a birth bed, Hinata had stayed with the baby. Long ago, she had looked into a crib, ready to hate the creature that had stolen her mother, and then tiny fingers had gripped just one of hers, tight and small and begging.

 

Long ago, Hanabi became her reason for living.

 

And she had been spirited away right underneath her nose. What use is a guardian if they cannot protect? What use is she, Hinata Hyuuga, weak and foolish as she is now?

 

Before the despair can overwhelm her once more, she grips the parchment stained with red bean. It's a chance and a hope she has clung onto these last few days. Her gaze drifts up and up until she sees nothing but blue sky and hot sun, and she is reminded of her wandering samurai friend and his bright eyes.

 

Her racing her heart is not a good sign. She needs to stop this before it blooms into something unneeded. She thinks it useless, even as she thumps her chest over her beating heart to calm it.

 

"Oh dear...what was the name again?"

 

Quickly she looks down once more at the paper,just to reassure herself that she has read the sloppy characters correctly and that she has the right pronunciation. Such a strange name...such a canid name to be sure.

 

And the name, however distant in her memory, has born her on silver syllables to very edge of her father's domain.

 

The border between the Hyuuga and Bungo provinces is fast approaching, and it is with a few more inquiries to locals that she is able to trace Uzumaki-san's friend.

 

It's night by the time she reaches a tiny village three miles south of Bungo's border. Her feet are aching, and her thin summer kimono is not suited for the slight chill. She has run out of food, and she is weary and her sword is heavy on her left hip.

 

The village is blessedly bustling, even at this time in the evening. There are warm lights peeking through the bamboo curtains and lanterns strung between houses and stores. There are families walking and couples stealing intimate caresses and old men playing shogi in a teashop.

 

It's a nice change of pace from the lonely hills and the quiet laughter of streams and wind.

 

She finds him at a small izakaya at the entrance of the town, slumped in a corner, red faced and reeking of the drink.

 

Hinata is unsure how to proceed, and her nose is slightly wrinkled because it stinks of sake and sweat in the tiny establishment. The lighting is dim and yellow, and there's the slight sizzling of fried yakitori, but it's not enough to wash out the other smells. The din of clinking saucers and jugs and the slurred conversations are not unpleasant, but they are a bit grating on her ears.

 

She walks through the few men standing around, ignoring a few whistles and lewd comments with an icy composure.

 

There is no time to be upset.

 

She fidgets with the golden thread of a sunflower just peeking out through the bottom of her armor.

 

A deep breath settles her, and then she taps the slumbering man's shoulder.

 

He lifts his chin from his neck to look blearily at the intruder, drool pooling at the corner of his mouth and blood shot eyes just looking plain old mean.

 

She's unfazed, but is surprised to find that underneath that shaggy head of brown hair is a face as youthful and unmarred as hers...well, unmarred save for two strange red markings on his cheeks.

 

"Umm..Pardon the intrusion, but are you Inuzuka Kiba-san?"

 

Her voice is deceptively soft, and Kiba is a man used to the grating shouts of a more than rough mother and a perpetually angry sister. This girl has a high pitched gentleness to her tone, and it's enough to get him to relax because she looks polite and she looks like a small breeze could knock her down in one fell swoop.

 

She's pretty too, and he feels a fresh wave of shame wash over him, because he is now made fully aware that his threadbare gray haori is half open, slipping off his shoulders and stained with heaven knows what. And here she is fresh as a daisy, in pretty silver armor and fancy silk.

 

"I uhh...Yeah...Tha's me. Who's asking?"

 

And later when his thoughts are clearer and the sake has been flushed from his system, the shame will burn anew because that is the first impression he has made and it is none too impressive.

 

He uses the heel of his palm to wipe away the drool at the corner of his mouth, and his brows furrow because he is upset at himself for being caught unawares like this. He realizes when her hopeful expression turns crestfallen that she has taken his frown to be directed at her.

 

"Shit-No. I mean, fu-Oh man, I'm Kiba, yeah...Nice to meet you-?"

 

He offers his hand towards her in a conciliatory fashion, and is relieved when she smiles warmly and shakes it.

 

"Hyuuga Hinata...but please...simply Hinata is fine!"

 

His eyes widen and his mouth goes as slack as his grip does.

 

"Hyuu..Hyuuga-s-san….s-so sorry. I was so-"

 

He lets go of her hand to run his fingers through his unruly hair, frustration and incredulity clear on his face because he has just now noticed the red flame on her chest plate and the pretty wakizashi on her left hip. And there's no mistaking those gray eyes, not even in this lighting.

 

She waves her hands, tries to calm him because she hates this part of her name and the establishment has gone quiet at hearing it, a collective breath is being held.

 

It is all unnecessary to her, so she cuts to the chase.

 

"I need your help. Someone told me you could help me find my little sister."

 

Her eyes are earnest, and he stops his worrying because he can't help her. It's the reason he's in this tavern now and the reason he's been working in the fields these past few months, and the reason he can't show his face back home.

 

"I can't."

 

"Please, I really-"

 

"Look, I would like to, but I can't."

 

"I can pay whatever-"

 

"I SAID I CAN'T!"

 

His chest is heaving, and it seems his frustration has burnt through his drunken haze. She can smell the sake clearly on his warm breath as he stands up to tower over her. His fists are clenched, and there's something almost feral in the way his teeth are bared and his lip is curled.

 

But she has come too far to be let down so easily.

 

"Uzumaki-san sent me!"

 

And he seems to break at that, his shoulders slump and his entire length loosens, joints popping out of locked positions and for once she can see why his name is fitting, because he's starting to look like a kicked puppy.

 

Pity stirs her heart, and she doesn't understand why, but there's a kindred look in his glassy stare. It's one she's had many times, and she knows it to be the fog of failure.

 

When you have failed and dropped the lowest you can, when you are nothing and something you had once believed was within your abilities to do is something you cannot do.

 

She's worn the same look since before Hanabi's birth. She knows it by heart.

 

"He sent you?"

 

"Yes. He said if there's anyone that can surely help it would be you. He said you are the best tracker in-"

 

"Was."

 

"Pardon?"

 

"I was the best tracker this side of Kyushu." He whispers, and then he notices that the bar has gone quiet, and that their business is no longer just their business.

 

Without thinking further, he bends down and hoists a dingy leather sack over his shoulder, grabs her wrist, and pulls her out with him into the crisp night air.

 

It does him some kind of good, because for the first time he seems fully aware of his surroundings and the girl who has traveled so far to find him.

 

Hinata is impatient, and her sister is maybe going farther and farther away. She will not wait for his crisis to be over if hers has only just begun. So she pulls her arm from his grip, rounds on him and with all her fury, grips his shirt in her tiny hands because she needs him like she needs the medicines that keep her alive...unwanted, but necessary.

 

"Help. Me. Inuzuka-san…please. She's the only person I have..."

 

The last words are soft, begging and on the verge of cracking. Her grip loosens as she wilts, and even her armor seems dull. The fight is all out of her, and the same look of failure that she had seen in him, he sees now.

 

He gives in, because it seems like despite her failure, she's still fighting and clawing her way back up to right it, and it's a much braver approach to life than the one he has taken. Admiration makes him say...

 

"I'll...I'll try. But I'm not the best anything anymore, and I don't know why that idiot sent you here. But I'll try."

 

Her grateful stare is a little too sincere for comfort, and her naive demeanour makes him wonder just how long it had been since she had last traveled far from home and creature comforts.

 

"Alright, don't get sappy on me! First we need to find Akamaru!"

 

"Akamaru, is he-?"

 

"My partner, yeah."

 

"Oh. How nice!"

 

Her tone is a bit bewildered, gentle, but bewildered... because although it wasn't something unheard of, it was still something kept behind closed doors and raised hands. To her, it didn't really matter who one loved or spent the nights with. And it wasn't uncommon, for boys apprenticed to samurai masters to have this kind of arrangement. She remembers her cousin Neji explaining hastily something about brotherly bonds and undying loyalty.

 

He had been very much red in the face after that, and refused to speak on the subject anymore. It was not a point of contention for Hinata either. It was their business, and for all she cared, the more consentual affection in the world, the better it was. She seemed to be unique in her views, so it was the first time something like this had come up so openly.

 

She waits, hand on the hilt of her sword and a patient smile on her face, because she is a welcoming person and she has hope.

 

Without further speech, Kiba's thumb and index finger are in his mouth, and he lets out a high pitched whistle through his teeth.

 

The sound can be barely heard over the chatter of the night crowds or the bustle of the town, but then the people part because there is something very large, and very white bounding down the main street and children giggle and a few women scream.

 

A bark resounds and it's with dawning horror that Hinata realizes what she thought was a small horse was a giant dog.

 

"OH MY!"

 

She leaps back, just as the massive hulking form skids to a less than graceful stop onto its haunches, and sharp fangs glitter menacingly in the light of the red lanterns above them.

 

Kiba smiles, hiding his muffled laughter behind a raised hand.

 

"Hinata, meet Akamaru."

 

And then Akamaru's face falls open into a doggy grin, panting tongue hanging sloppily. His long tail wags faster and faster until it is nothing but a blur hitting Kiba's leg in the process and the friendly whack, whackconvinces her that it's perfectly safe.

 

Out of habit, she places her hand palm out and waits patiently as Akamaru shoves his warm, moist nose into it and snuffles eagerly to catch this new person's scent.

 

It's when his large tongue pokes out and starts lapping at her fingers excitedly that she becomes comfortable enough to dig her hands through the thick soft fur behind his dark ears and bury her head in his sinewy neck.

 

There's power underneath all that fluff, and she thanks her stars that Akamaru seems to be as friendly a dog as they come.

 

"So...Akamaru is your dog?" She asks after a bit of petting, and Kiba looks very offended at her question.

 

"My dog? No he's my partner!"

 

And her face heats up, and she slowly realizes her mistake and where her thoughts had lead to and she wonders at herself.

 

"Oh...I thought when you m-meant partner, you meant he was your...your..."

 

"NO! Ewww, for the sake of my sanity, Hinata! NOT LIKE THAT! He's not even human!"

 

Kiba is banging his head against his hands, hoping to knock out the image because he had seen her embarrassed flush and heard her question and this was mortifying. Would the earth just swallow him up, eat him and his misery so perhaps in the afterlife he could maintain at least a crumb of dignity?

 

And even Akamaru has placed his huge head on his outstretched paws and is whining as if he is in great pain.

 

"I'm..I'm so sorry! I just assumed and oh this is so embarrassing, and OH MY HEAVENS!"

 

Hinata has become a bumbling mess, her hands hide her face as do her heavy bangs, and it's only Kiba's bubbling laughter that incites her to stop. And she can help it, it's infectious and loud and boisterous and reminds her a little bit of Uzumaki-san's laugh.

 

So she starts laughing too and soon the two are a nearly toppled over pair, clutching their ribs until their guffaws have died down to a couple of giggles and snorts and Akamaru still has his doggy grin and all is okay for the moment.

 

And the lights and stars coalesce into something beautiful and new through her teary eyes, because she is happy and Inuzuka Kiba and Akamaru are another crossed path she has found.

 


End file.
